The Pleasure Machine

The Case of Candace W.-1

Chapter Two

The Case of Candace W.

When you have to keep someone under surveillance, it makes the job a whole lot easier if the subject tends to follow a normal routine. Luckily, most people just sort of settle into one. I knew that somewhere in the middle of that sprawling lawn, through the landscaped gardens, and behind the high redwood privacy fence that enclosed the spacious grounds, Ms. Candace Waverly could be found sunning herself beside her pool, as she did most mornings during the summer. The hour or so spent there had become her before-lunch ritual.

The narrow alleyway that wound along behind those exclusive fenced-in estates, served as a back entrance, being just wide enough to allow a delivery van to park along the edge. I had rented such a van, gray, nondescript, like any of those left parked discretely out of sight while their drivers made the necessary deliveries through the back entrances in to the palatial homes along the valley. I eased back behind the wheel, my gaze on the high redwood fence, knowing that just behind that fence, the wealthy socialite was peeling down, getting set to catch a few rays. I checked my watch and slipped my thumb onto the button of the activator. The slightest movement of my thumb would be enough to send a tiny jolt through the fence and into the house, to stimulate the rich b***h just a little zap. It was no more than a hint of what was to come, just something to get her in a happy mood.

***

Candace had the day planned. The morning had all the promise of a gorgeous day, and she meant to take advantage of it by spending a few hours by the pool, just letting herself soak up the gentle rays of the morning sun; a paperback, one of those steamy romances, all the company she would need. She threw off the long silk wrapper, stretched luxuriously, ruffled up her short, ash blond hair and, clad in nothing but a pair of underpants, padded barefoot across the thick bedroom carpet to hunt through a set of drawers. Normally, she would get out her two-piece, a pale yellow swimsuit, the top of which she sometimes sloughed off when she was sure she would be alone in the privacy of her garden. But today, the thought had struck her, as Ramon was serving her morning coffee out on the deck, that the developing day was just too gorgeous to miss. The deep azure of that oh, so perfect blue sky, reminded her of those wonderful days at St. Tropez, and of the daring thong she wore as she boldly strolled along in her tall-heeled sandals, the high-set cheeks of her rearend boldly exposed; free and delightfully topless on the more fashionable beaches of the Riviera. The skimpy swimsuit had been packed away since last year’s trip, but today she would get it out, feeling, for some reason, rather bold and just a little bit sexy.

Ramon would be in the kitchen, from which he couldn’t see the pool area. She was sure no one else was about; so who cared what she wore! Stepping out of her panties in front of the full-length mirror, the thought flashed through her mind for just a fleeting second, that she could sunbathe in nude if she wanted to, although she had never been quite that daring in the past. There was, of course, Ramon to consider, though he was always respectful and quite discrete. But that boy who worked for Donofrio’s, Ronny, he was another matter! He was always trying to get a peek at her as he lay sprawled out in the sun.

A look of annoyance crossed her pretty brow. She had talked to old man Donofrio about the impertinent kid’s lack of respect once before, but it didn’t seem to help.

A few weeks ago she had seen him talking to Caroline, her teenaged niece. She had heard the two of them laughing and giggling behind the potting shed, and when she came upon them suddenly, they were in each other’s arms! It didn’t take her long to grill Caroline that night, getting the whole story of how the boy had propositioned her, talking dirty to the girl, in his smiling, half-teasing manner, suggesting oral s*x right there in the garden! Things might have gotten out of hand, hadn’t Candace happened upon them. Outraged, fuming with indignation, she had promptly summoned old man Donofrio. She wanted the boy fired, but Donofrio pleaded with her. He had seemed respectful and properly apologetic, and he promised he would read the kid the riot act.

But it wasn’t a week later when she was settling in near the pool, bending over to arrange her blanket, that, for some reason she looked back over her shoulder and saw him standing there, admiring her bent over form, leering at her, his eyes brazenly fixed on her bikini clad bottom. She straightened up, flustered and furious, and pointedly gave him a stern look of annoyance, but all he got in return was a widening of that silly grin. Indignant, Candace stormed off, her privacy violated. She couldn’t allow this sort of thing to go on in her own backyard. She would make a point of it when next she saw Donofrio, and being more firm with him this time. He had to understand that she simply couldn’t have the hired help sneaking about, ogling her body, trying to get a good look while she while she had every right to go about dressed however she liked in the privacy of her own yard if she wanted to. Still, she had to admit, as a twinge of horniness swept through her, softening her: the boy was rather cute. And he actually did seem quite contrite when she’d finally confronted him directly, making plain her displeasure speaking sharply to him, putting him in his place in no uncertain terms. At the memory of her putting the lad firmly in his place, making him wipe the smile off his face, and berating him, till he stood before her with that hang-dog expression, something stirred in her. The hard lines on her face softened into a smile of pleased satisfaction.

In spite of her outrage, she had to admit it was rather flattering that at age 37, she could still get away with wearing a two-piece; still looked good enough in it that a healthy young man would go to great lengths just to get a glimpse of her body. Smiling to herself, she stood in front of the full-length mirror regarding her flat belly, trim hips and smooth thighs; not an inch of fat, she noted with proper satisfaction. Leaning forward, she coaxed her floppy little t**s into the clearly inadequate triangles of the tiny wine-colored bra, which when tied into place, left her n*****s dimly evident. Next, she stepped into the minuscule panty, pulling it up into place till the narrow strap was ensconced firmly between the tight cheeks of her butt. The string waistband rode low on her hips; she adjusted it, tugging it up just a bit to make sure that the stretched maroon triangle adequately covered her pubic hair.

Turning her back to the mirror, she looked over her shoulder to inspect the view from the rear, the view that had so captivated the young gardener. The trim blonde smiled to see the twin curves of her firm rearend. She had a nice ass, she decided, giving herself a little pat, and feeling deliciously wicked. She gave her pert bottom a sexy shake, wiggling and laughing in delight at her audacity.

***

Candace, in a large peaked sunhat, a pair of dark glasses perched on her nose, eased back onto the chaise lounge, letting her lean, lightly-tanned legs sprawl loosely apart on the already sun-warmed pillows. As she opened her paperback, she felt a vague stirring deep inside her. Absently, she placed a hand on her belly, fingers rubbing a little circle on the smooth taut skin, and turned her attention to the book she held in her other hand.

She tried reading about a handsome maverick of Wall Street with thick curls, surprising gentleness, and the most sensitive brown eyes, but she was having trouble keeping her mind on the words. For some reason she seemed hyper-aware of her nearly naked body: her sack limbs, her pantied crotch, her breasts. It was a sensual awareness, one that left her feeling lissome, and vaguely discontent as she wiggled on the soft warm pillows. Her hips shifted, her bare legs stirred scrissoring restlessly. She tried to concentrate on the book, but found she was re-reading the same passage over and over again. Without noticing it, the hand on her bare midriff crept up to where it rested lightly on her right breast; she gave herself a perfunctory squeeze through the slick bra, and was startled by how good the ripple of s****l excitement felt.

Instantly, the blonde shot upright, looked quickly around, and with eager hands reached up behind her to untie the strings of the bikini top in a rush to free her perky breasts to the delightful warmth of the light moist breeze. Sinking back into the cradling pillows, she let her eyes close, and brought the hand back up to cup her now naked tit, to squeeze and fondle herself, to feel the rubbery n****e hardening against her palm. It felt so good; the rolling pleasure that lapped her languid body. The forgotten paperback lay on the wooden deck, as the slim blonde let herself sink into a kind of sensual languor.

The left hand cupping her compact breast, was moving the handful of soft white flesh in slow, leisurely circles, generating dreamy waves of pleasure. The blond girl was thoroughly enjoying the warm agreeable feelings, when she sensed, rather than saw, that she was not alone. Her eyes sprung open to behold the figure of a young man, shirtless against the sun, staring down at her, grinning from ear to ear. She shot upright, every muscle of her body tense with instant alarm, but when she looked up into his eyes, she felt a bolt of s****l wanting tear through her, leaving her instantly weak and helpless.

“Oh,” was all she could say as she sat up with exposed breasts jiggling; a sharp throb of arousal rocketed through her, leaving her shaken.

He didn’t move, just stood at the foot of the chaise-lounge, looking down on the bare-breasted woman, that familiar smirk plastered on his face, while Candace stared up at the young man with wide, questioning eyes. She saw the way he was looking at her, and the wave of passion that swept through her was overwhelming. She could do nothing but sit paralyzed; unable to move. Her eyes took in his young, bare-chested body, the smooth muscles of his lean physique, the thin trace of soft brown curls that thickened at the center of his chest, and trailed down to point like an arrow straight towards his blue-jeaned crotch. A second, more massive shudder of desire shot through her, and once again she couldn’t help the abrupt cry that escaped her lips.

“Ohh, Ronny,” she began, in a barely audible voice that almost turned into a plea. A tiny part of her brain tried to send out a warning, but the rolling waves of lust swept away whatever it had meant to say.

“Go on, Ms. Waverly. Don’t let me stop you. I like to watch girls play with themselves. But you know what? If you’re gonna jack off, you should probably take those panties off first.”

For a moment, the bare-breasted woman sat bolt upright, the forgotten hand still covering one breast, eyes wide staring at the young male who seemed so irresistibly attractive that she wanted only to get her hands on his hard young body, to clasp his blue-jeaned loins and press her body to his, to get at his strong, youthful c**k! A quiver of lust rippled through her nude shoulders.

“Go on, get them panties off! Let’s see if that p***y of yours is blond too,” the boy teased, obviously pleased with himself. He dragged over a metal lawn chair, swinging it around so that he could straddle it backwards, pulling it up for a really close view.

The topless woman sat dazed for just a few seconds, caught in an agony of indecision; another creamy wave of the most indescribable pleasure welled up in her, and she could do nothing but let herself sink back, surrendering to the warm, wonderful feelings flooding all through her body. She settled back, her eyes slid shut, and she arched up as her hands flew to her hips to dispatch the skimpy thong, slipping it hastily down her tawny legs, pulling it free, and tossing it aside. Now naked before him, she eased back and let her lissome legs fall apart, carelessly open, like a slovenly w***e, letting him look, wanting him to look.